They All Break His Heart, in the End
by Jahnah
Summary: After all, how long could a man be selfish?


He was selfish. That much he knew. In the rage, the twisting agony of loneliness and the whirling vortex of all of time and space, the Doctor was selfish in the way he didn't want to die. And then Wilf - poor, old, kind Wilf… he had gone and pressed that button. He had gone and gotten himself stuck.

_He will knock four times._

In all of his life and all of his regenerations, the Doctor never imagined that it would be Wilf who would end his time here, now. How was it fair that he should change his face and move on to become a different man when he could change the world? Change the universe? The Doctor had the power over life and death; he could change history! Where was his reward? Where was his standing ovation? Where were his friends?

_He will knock four times._

Equipment and papers flew through the air, scattering around the room in a flurry of movement. The pains of his body were long forgotten, didn't matter any more. He wouldn't be in pain for much longer.

The echo of Wilf's voice cut through the Doctor's inner turmoil. Four knocks hung in the air as the men's eyes met and the Doctor felt himself give up. He felt like a different man as he reached out, his hand grasping the handle of the door. How long would it take for the radiation to change him? To _kill _him?

"No, no, Doctor, you can't!"

Nine hundred years old. He had seen suns exploding, stars scattering in the sky. He had seen planets being formed and then living through millions of years in the blink of an eye. He had seen seas and mountains in far off galaxies, red skies and yellow moons and impossibly beautiful fields of flowers that shone silver in the night.

He had met Rose. She made him better, and then Martha, and Donna. They had shown him friendship, shared in his grief and laughed with him in the joy of the universe. How could he say he had not had a good life?

"It would be my honour."

There was no going back. Not now. Saving his people was impossible, saving Rose… saving Donna and all those who had sacrificed themselves so he could live was beyond his abilities. But he could save Wilf. An old man with the heart of a lion.

The Doctor could save Wilf.

So he shut the door and pushed the button, his body spasming as the radiation hit. It felt like his veins were on fire. His mouth was dry and his body curled into itself as he fell. The glass surface gave nothing to him, his fingers gliding down it as he tried desperately to find some hold, something to grasp onto reality with.

The burning agony ebbed away slowly, the Doctor's hands pulling at his hair shook as he lay on the floor in foetal position until the last of the radiation seeped into his body. Was it safe to emerge from his safe shell? To ever stand and walk like a normal man again?

No. He wasn't a normal man, and so he stood. He pushed open the door and he ran a hand over his face. He felt his skin mend beneath his fingers, saw it with his own eyes as the cuts and scrapes vanished and the pain was taken away with the regeneration energy. His hearts sank. How long did he have now? An hour? Less?

"It's started."

He had to say goodbye. To his friends. Sarah Jane, Donna, Martha… Rose. He would see Rose last, back before she met him. Before he turned her world upside down and before she fell in love with him.

Before she knew he loved her, too.

The pain in each goodbye was almost as much as the radiation poisoning. Martha and Mickey, married. When had that happened? Had he missed so much of two of his best friends' lives? There was a lump in his throat as they looked at him. This was the last time he would see them. He knew that as he walked away.

Sarah Jane and her son. Luke, talking on the phone. And there she was, his Sarah Jane. His brilliant Sarah Jane. How long ago had he met her? So many years it felt like centuries. She was older now, and he was ancient, and he saw the tears in her eyes even from the other side of the road. He saw her smile, her wave as he raised his hand to her and then disappeared.

Jack. The arrogant American. It had been too long, but one more nicety for the Captain. _His name is Alonso _and a small nod. The Doctor jerked his fingers to his forehead a little in a small salute and turned to leave.

He had to see. He had to go and find out, and the book signing was perfect. It was amazing, how alike she and her great-grandmother looked. He could hear her explain it briefly to someone, and then it was him. _To: the Doctor. _She knew it was him. He could see she did, and he had to ask.

"Was she happy, in the end?" He hoped against hope that she was. That she had found someone worthy of her goodness.

"Yes. Yes she was." A pause. "Were you?"

The Doctor smiled sadly, his chin trembling, and walked away. Back to the TARDIS.

How much longer now? For how many more minutes could he be selfish? Thirty? Fifteen? No, he had to carry on. One trip to the past, and then he had to carry on. He had to say farewell and move forwards.

Donna. She finally got married… but of course, she wouldn't remember the first time. She wouldn't remember anything, and she never could. She wouldn't even be able to see him here, watching her in her white dress, but Sylvia and Wilf could. The Doctor wasn't sure how long he could keep his voice steady, or how long it would be before he regenerated.

"I just wanted to give you this," he said. The envelope left his hands and he paused. "Wedding present. Thing is, I never carry money so I just popped back in time, borrowed a quid off a really lovely man." He looked to Sylvia. "Jeffery Noble, his name was." The Doctor's eyes smiled as the shock registered on Sylvia's face, Wilf moving to put his arm around her.

"Have that on me." He stayed just long enough to see the last salute Wilf would give him.

His strength was leaving him now. _Not much longer_, he told himself. _Not much longer. _The TARDIS would take him to Rose. The estate was achingly familiar, the shadowy crevice in which he leaned provided a good view of where Rose would have to walk to get home. He felt dizzy, small bursts of pain creeping up on him.

And then he saw her.

He meant only to watch, but he felt as though he were being stabbed and she heard his grunt of discomfort.

"You alright, mate?" Her voice was softer than he remembered.

"Yeah."

"Too much to drink?" She sounded amused, and the Doctor tried to keep the sound of agony out of his voice. He stood up straighter, looked at her and felt his stomach drop.

"Something like that."

"Maybe it's time you went home."

"Yeah." He wanted to rush forwards and hug her one last time, or kiss her… do something other than stand there. But he held himself against the wall as the regeneration energy rushed through him. He merely looked, and talked.

"2005... Tell you what," he swallowed, smiling a little. "I bet you're gonna have a really great year." He nodded and took in her smile. She brightened the whole estate up, and the Doctor felt his voice cracking.

"See ya."

And then, after several moments of happiness, there was pain. It ripped through him as he stumbled forwards, grasping the wall and falling to the snow covered ground. He had to get to the TARDIS, had to… to go.

"The universe will sing you to your sleep."

The Doctor closed his eyes and stood. His feet firmly on the ground, he made his way shakily to the TARDIS, let himself in and threw his coat over a banister.

This was it. He could feel it. Not so much sharp pain now that he wasn't holding it off, but a burning. His hand started to glow, the energy swarming around it as he looked on. Was he welling up? Maybe.

But everything that had happened… was he really about to leave that all behind? Did he have to forget, move forwards and not look back once? How could he do that when his entire being had been changed. His face, his voice, his friends. He had been taught compassion, mercy. How could he leave these people, this life, behind?

"I don't want to go," he said, finally voicing the thoughts of all his past nine regenerations. He felt himself burning all over, the brightness increasing as his head tipped back. He tried to fight it, wanted to stay as he was, but he couldn't. Even though he knew that he couldn't, he still tried.

He was selfish. That much he knew. In the rage, the twisting agony of loneliness and the whirling vortex of all of time and space, the Doctor was selfish in the way he didn't want to die. But how long could a man be selfish?


End file.
